Blurred Vision
by Quistis Trepe1
Summary: Her mother was slaughtered by a callous criminal, the deadly yet brilliantly skilled Jade Fox. Fuelled by a burning hot desire for revenge May chased the Fox, only to loose her father as well. May was spared her life, but the revenge May felt before was m


CHAPTER 1: ALONE AGAIN  
  
The local arena, it was a place May grew up in, it was a place she felt safe and secure, but she rarely ever felt like that, anymore. Her father used to bring her to the arena all the time, her mother would've brought her, but the arena was no place for a woman, which was why her father used to dress her up as a little boy. Even now she wore her thin; soft black hair in a tight bun which she hid under a neat monk's hat, one which wouldn't look odd on an adolescent boy. She entered the Shaan Local Arena and once the expected looks from the old imbibers, fighting teachers and arena warriors subsided (some quicker than others), she'd sit down and wait to be challenged. There was something about her that made her a prime target for rising new arena stars, or experienced arena fighters looking for a warm up, or practicing their skills with a newly acquired weapon. Maybe it was her small, slender frame which gave the impression that she'd be an easy fight, or maybe it was her brooding silence that threatened people. But whatever it was, she was barely ever in the arena for more than a half an hour before she got challenged to a duel.  
  
The Shaan arena was pretty small, it wasn't the biggest she'd seen (but not the smallest either). The actual arena was in a circular shape and was well maintained, it was blessed every morning and the gravel and sand floor was raked and levelled every night, before the arena closed. The actual building was a towering, dark wooden structure and didn't look very welcoming from far away. The actual arena floor where battles were fought was slightly raised and scattered around it were wooden tables and chairs were old men would sit and drink sour ale and smoke their clay pipes while cheering raucously at the ongoing battles within the circular arena ring. At the very back of the room were trays and troughs of weapons bought by the arena master. Sometimes people would come in and practise or duel with these weapons (but May thought they weren't very good, they were made of cheap material), however most of the time people would bring their own weapons. The room smelled heavily of smoke and ale, pretty much like a busy bar, but to May it was a welcoming, familiar smell.  
  
May took her usual, creaky wicker and wooden chair on the right side of the arena. She would keep her head down in a baleful fashion but still fix her unblinking hazel eyes on the arena ring. Sometimes this awkward position would hurt her neck a bit, but she figured the tougher she looked, the more likely she was to be challenged. The arena was very much like a stage in a theatre, a good fighter could become a local celebrity, respected by men and adored by women. The more challengers a fighter fought and defeated the more his popularity would increase. Most of these fighter celebrities lost popularity as they grew older, or when they began to lose their fights. However the lucky celebrity could manage to become a local Baron's high bodyguard or knight, and then they'd ascend up the social ranks and seem to disappear from public, only whenever a particular event which would attract aristocratic attention should occur, would they reappear, they would look fatter and less sharp.  
  
At the moment two young men occupied it. They weren't fighting; they were both separately practising with their own weapons. One man was just recently past boyhood; he was smallish, had a muscular build and had dark, swarthy skin. He had a crude moustache and scrubby clothing; he trained with a long, hefty pike. It was worn and scratched so May guessed it was an arena-owned weapon. The other fighter was taller but didn't have as muscular a build as the smaller guy. He was older as well and paler, he was bald and had a strange tattoo on his neck which marked him as the member of an order or special sect. He fought in a more amateurish fashion with a pair of nun-chaku. He didn't have a lot of skill and kept flopping them around and once he accidentally sent them skittering across the floor. His face reddened but he simply kept his face to the floor, ignored the jeers of the old men in the corner of the room, and picked up his fallen weapon. He resumed training.  
  
A dozen or so fighters, the other arena patrons, sat in a group and talked about by-gone fights and other adventures they shared in the past. The usual drinkers stayed in their smoky corner and the tiny serving boy with a bald head and single pony-tail kept disappearing behind the small oak door at the back of the vast room, and reappearing with a tray of ale. To be honest it was pretty quiet today. May hated that, she hated the quiet. She hated waiting and not having anything to do.because when this happened, her thoughts drifted towards the memories of her dead parents. She shivered and tried hard to think of something else, she started to doubt whether she'd even get a fight today. Then she heard a loud, deliberately interrupting cough. She looked up, and she looked into the eyes of a relatively well known fighter known as Jin Ting Zhang. His narrowing cold, watery blue eyes and the way his lip was twitching, he was looking for a way to ask May if she wanted to duel. May knew what he wanted; her eyes widened with recognition, but she wanted to wait to let him ask. "I propose a duel," Ting Zhang said gruffly. May nodded, and slowly rose to her feet. She faked a little nervous shake, she guessed the more vulnerable or weak she looked, the more she'd be underestimated, and so her opponent would be more unprepared for her attacks. She stepped into the ring and did the ritual blessing for luck and brotherly (or in her case, sisterly) friendship. She heard the old men whispering hoarsely in the corner as the other two men, who were in the ring previously, left and took a seat and a sip of ale at the side of the ring. But now she had to block all that out, she wanted to fight. This was what she loved, it was when she could let go of all the pain in her life and just.BE ALIVE, and there was no time to think about anything else, just the fight. "Weapons?" she asked and made her voice seem manlier (but it didn't really). She was clarifying whether the fight was hand to hand combat or if weapons were to be involved. "Yes," Ting Zhang nodded, and he slid a long, thin blade from a silver sheath hanging idly by his belt. It was a Malaysian sword fashioned in Northern Style with a slight curve in it to give it a superior slashing and ripping power. May realised this and prepared for this kind of tactical attack. Then she blocked out the rest of the arena, so all she could see was the ring and her opponent, the muscular Jin Ting Zhang, who flashed her a toothy grin. She, without taking her eyes off her opponent, pulled two plain, twin daggers from her boots and held them in her fighting stance, a position which could easily become defensive or offensive in the passing of a single second.  
  
The pretty little girl who rang the bell which signified the start of a fight (she was the only girl who was really allowed in the arena, and that was just because she was the arena-master's daughter) came out of the room at the back of the arena, and tugged on the worn rope which in turn rang the bell. The high-pitched peal ran out over the whole arena, and they were ready to begin. There were a few seconds of electric tension and then Ting Zhang, with his silvery sword out held, came swinging towards May. 


End file.
